


Enjoy the Silence

by lunarpowered



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, stupid brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarpowered/pseuds/lunarpowered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante gets a surprise visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjoy the Silence

So far, Dante has spent the day mock-napping in the silence of his shop. Lady and Trish are both out on various jobs, and Patty is studying for her upcoming final exams, which means that he's been spending a great deal of time alone lately. Occasionally, Morrison will stop by with a lead, but it's been a few days since that's happened. 

He's not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, honestly.

The sound of the rain outside, along with the quiet sound that his ceiling fan makes as it swings slightly, would have been enough white noise to lull him to sleep if he had been at all tired. As it stands, he’s found himself too tense to sleep; haunted by some agitating, urgent energy flowing just beneath his skin that says he should be doing something that he isn’t.

Not so distantly, he fights the urge to get up and find his way to the bar he’d built in a corner of the shop in order to make himself a drink or five – something to silence that all-too-familiar feeling. Yet as much as he wants to do that, he remains still.

Still and silent.

His gaze roams slowly around the shop, resting long enough on various artifacts to recall memories of how he’d obtained them. Gifts from people he’d helped, things left over from Patty’s stay. Echoes of laughter and arguments with people he cared about.

Yet even in the presence of such soothing memories, he still finds himself unable to shake the restlessness.

His attention eventually shifts to the portrait of his mother on his desk, but he has all of five seconds to reflect on it before the door to his shop is forcibly flung open, letting in a gust of autumn chill.

A large, blue hand made of energy draws back as Nero enters.

“Fine, I’m here. Look. Are you happy?!” he snaps at seemingly no one as he approaches Dante’s desk.

Casually shifting to sit upright, the man in red offers his signature grin.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite headache. What’s the occasion, kid?” he asks, taking a moment to acknowledge Kyrie, who has taken to closing the door behind her and shaking off her umbrella.

“Hell if I know,” Nero responds, clearly agitated as he all but slams Yamato on Dante’s desk, “All I know is that he won’t shut up. ‘The sixteenth, the sixteenth. I have to be there on the sixteenth’,” he mocks.

Dante’s infuriating grin falters for a split second at those words.

“Whatever he’s rambling about, it’s your problem now. I woke up at 4am to catch a flight here, so I am officially done. I’m going to find the nearest diner, eat the most ridiculous thing they have, and sleep until I grow a beard,” he says, clearly frazzled from how annoying the sword’s spirit had been up to this point.

It’s obvious that even if he woke up early, he had time enough to dress for the weather, since he’s wearing a coat and scarf with his outfit of choice. He also seems to have taken care to keep the rain off the rectangular glasses he’s acquired in the past year.

“Sorry about this, Dante,” Kyrie says sweetly as she moves to the desk too, wrapping both arms around one of Nero’s. She’s dressed for the weather as well, wearing a skirt, leggings, boots and a sweater. “He’s just tired. We booked a hotel near the airport, so if you need us for anything, just give us a call, okay? We won’t be far,” she assures.

Dante has since returned to his usual flippant attitude, and merely takes the sword from the desk.

The very instant his hand touches the saya, it feels like a storm inside him has calmed.

“Ah, I think I can handle it. You kids look like you could use a break anyway,” he replies, a subtle jab at the fact that the sword’s spirit is known for being difficult.

It’s then that Dante reaches into his desk drawer – past pictures of happy clients and letters of appreciation, and in front of the still-bloodied glove he’s kept since the Temen-ni-Gru was raised. A moment later, he produces a small wad of money.

“Go have some fun.”

Kyrie’s eyes widen in response. “Oh, Dante, we couldn’t possibly-”

“The hell we couldn’t,” Nero responds as he picks it up, counting it to see if it would cover the plane ticket back to Fortuna. Thankfully, it’s way more than enough.

Kyrie shoots him an unamused look before returning her attention to Dante.

“Are you sure this is alright? Don’t you need that money for something?”

Dante just waves a hand and sets his feet back up on the table.

“I'll be fine. Just finished a job yesterday, in fact, so there's plenty more where that came from,” he assures.

He is, of course, lying through his teeth.

While it’s true that he had completed a job the previous day, he owed Lady much more than that for the damages he’d caused in the process. He knew she would be giving him hell later, but it was worth it. He wasn’t able to see Nero and Kyrie all that often, and it was even rarer for the two of them to find themselves alone with no other plans, from what he’s been told.

Evidently, since the last time the group had seen one another, the Order had rebuilt itself. This time, it had appointed a competent leader – one that lead by Sparda’s example, and acted out of kindness for his fellow man. This one change had served to turn the entire religion around. No longer was it a corrupt system lead by a single person that controlled the masses with fear. Instead, it had become a a beacon of light and hope in the community; a sanctuary where everyone was equal. The new leader (appropriately named Benedictus) had even praised Nero publicly for his bravery during Sanctus’ attack. This lead to the people of Fortuna not only letting go of their fear of his demonic hand, but respecting him as a hero. He was even offered the position of Captain of the Holy Knights – a title formerly held by Credo. With Kyrie’s guidance, he had accepted, knowing that there’s no one else Credo would have trusted to take his place.

Of course, because of his new responsibilities within the Order, it was difficult for Nero to find time to just be with Kyrie, which likely also contributed to the day’s irritability.

Fortunately, the money that Dante provided should be more than enough to allow them to entertain themselves any number of ways while they’re in town.

Soothed that they weren’t taking anything that Dante might need, Kyrie smiles brightly. “Thank you, Dante. You’re really wonderful.”

“Yeah? Try telling that to Captain Aggro,” he says, motioning to Nero.

Kyrie giggles. “He’s grateful, too. Isn’t that right, Nero?”

Nero rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh. “I guess you’re not a pain in the ass _all_ the time.”

_Just like his dad_ , Dante can’t help but think as he responds with a chuckle. Of course, Vergil would have worded it differently, but the sentiment would have been the same.

“You sure you don’t have a side job writing greeting cards, kid? I’m gettin’ a little misty-eyed,” he teases before shooing them away. “You two get out of here and have a good vacation. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Which is his way of saying that they’re free to take as much time as they need before returning.

It doesn’t take much longer for them to say their goodbyes, Kyrie picking up their umbrella from where she’d left it leaning against a wall near the entrance. As Nero opens the door, Kyrie opens the umbrella and ducks beneath it as they walk back out into the rain.

Once the shop is silent again, a pause that seems to last an eternity stretches in the air before it’s broken by a distant voice.

“After all this time, you’re still a terrible liar,” Vergil’s voice echoes through Dante’s consciousness.

Unsurprisingly, he could tell immediately that Dante had given them the last of his money, but he had chosen not to call him on it. Mostly because it meant that the kids would be occupied enough to give them time to themselves for a while.

Dante’s answer is a light laugh – one that’s unlike the kind he gives to other people. It’s a bittersweet sound that he saves only for Vergil; a sad fondness that weaves itself through genuine mirth.

“Yeah, well. It was for a good cause. Besides, I was gonna spend it all on pizza anyway. Decided it would be better to watch my girlish figure and let the kids have some fun.”

The soft snicker Vergil gives in response could only be heard by someone versed in his expressions, which means that it rings through Dante as clearly as it would have if Vergil had been standing in front of him.

Another silence follows, but this time it’s a comfortable one.

A few moments pass before Vergil’s voice returns; quiet yet sincere.

“Happy birthday, Dante.”

With those words, Dante finally relaxes in his chair, crossing his arms with Yamato resting firmly between them and his chest.

“Happy birthday, Vergil,” he responds in a similar tone.

For the first time in what seems like centuries, Dante feels truly calm. There’s no underlying anxiety or tension, and every empty space is filled with a familiar warmth.

It’s that very warmth that leads him to close his eyes as the rain picks up, lulling both brothers to a kind of rest that’s only possible when they’re together.

In Dante’s opinion, there’s no way he’d rather spend his birthday. Even though he wishes his brother was in some corporeal form instead of a Devil Arm, he’s hardly complaining. Solid form or not, Vergil is back where he belongs.

As far as presents go, this is the best one he’s ever received.


End file.
